


Mean Machine

by orphan_account



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: Because its basically Mean Machine#, Ever seen Mean Machine?, F/F, Prison AU, With A Twist
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-19
Updated: 2017-11-24
Packaged: 2019-02-04 11:37:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12770244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Tobin Heath had the world at her fingertips. She had everything anyone could have wanted. Money, fame, fans, you name it, Tobin had it. But when accusations get thrown around, Tobin's life gets smashed into a million pieces. How do you expect to prove your innocence when you've been thrown into jail over drink driving charges? Choose your friends wisely and maybe you'll survive.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> You guys should watch Mean Machine with Vinnie Jones because its just a Mean Machine crossover. I think the American version is called The Longest Yard? With Adam Sandler and Terry Crews.

Tobin Heath had it all, the talent, the fame, the money, the fans, anything she wanted she had. Who would have known that one simple penalty miss would bring her perfect bubble crashing back down to earth. She still has nightmares over it. 

The United States were against England in the World Cup final. The match was a total stalemate for most of the game until Tobin stepped up to take a penalty against a shaky looking Karen Bardsley in the England goal. She almost fought Abby Wambach to take the spot kick, which seemed odd to most watching. She stepped up, swept her left leg back and barely even touched the ball as she brought her leg back down. Bardsley easily held onto Tobin’s tame effort before jumping up and tossing the ball to Lucy Bronze who ran the length of the pitch to set up a beauty of a cross straight to the oncoming head of Jodie Taylor. 

That wasn’t even the worst part of Tobin’s night. Taylor had opened the scoring in the 86th minute and as soon as The US restarted the game they lost possession of the ball and England surged forward with Toni Duggan. Lucy Bronze screamed for the ball as she made her way down the England right-hand side (The US’ left). Duggan found her and Bronze surged into the box with the ball. At that moment Tobin made a rash decision to rugby tackle Bronze off the ball and sent the defender flying. Penalty. Fara Williams stepped up for England and made no mistake.

USA 0-2 England.

The game still keeps Tobin up at night. The crowd booing her as Jill Ellis pulled her off still echoes in her head. She didn’t keep her silver medal. She gave it to her father when he came to console her after the game.

Three days after the final a story erupted in the media. Tobin Heath – Cheater! Accusations after accusations that Tobin had thrown the game and accepted a major pay out from a secret organisation. She knew she was innocent, she just genuinely had a bad game, but the papers were adamant that she missed the penalty and took Bronze out on purpose. 

After that her world fell apart. Portland Thorns terminated her contract, Nike dropped her and multiple brands pulled out and denied any form of association with her. All she had in the world were her family, house and wife – who certainly looked like a flight risk once the money stopped pouring in. Tobin turned to the booze when she realised her wife was cheating on her with the local barmaid. She found herself abusing the alcohol a lot more frequently as time went on.

Tobin usually found herself in the garden after a rough night of drinking. The sun loungers were surprisingly comfortable especially when completely intoxicated. She grunted as her eyes snapped open to the sound of next doors gardener. After checking her phone for any messages, Tobin sat up a little too quickly and vomited into the nearby plant pot. No messages. Not even one from her wife, Shirley. ‘She’s probably too busy boning that barmaid,’ Tobin thought, ‘Vanessa, what a stupid name.’

Pressing Shirley’s name on her phone, Tobin brought it to her ear. After three rings a groggy voice answered, “Hello?”

“Oh, so your phone does work!” Tobin spat out, “Or are you too tired to look at who’s calling you to realise that it’s me?” 

The voice sighed, “Tobin, please don’t argue with me, it’s too early and by the sounds of it, you’re still drunk.” 

Tobin scoffed, “Have you seen my wife? Is there any wonder I drink?”

“If you’re calling just to be rude, I’m hanging up.”

“No, please don’t,” Tobin rested her head in her free hand, voice cracking, she continued, “I just need to hear your voice and for you to tell me everything is going to be okay.” 

“Tobin…” Shirley trailed off.

“Shirley, have you seen my bra?” A voice in the distance softly asked the woman at the other end of the phone. 

Tobin leapt to her feet and ran towards the house, “I swear to god!” She yelled down the phone, “Not in my house. Not in my bed.” As soon as she came up to their bedroom door, Shirley was there with a blanket wrapped around her chest and her arm outstretched to keep Tobin away.

“Don’t you dare, Tobin.” She shouted, pushing the former Thorns winger away.

Tobin picked Shirley up and almost tossed her across the hallway before booting down the bedroom door. Stood with one foot out of the bedroom window was one of Shirley’s many affairs. “Vanessa,” Tobin spat, “I thought I told you to back off.”

Terror flashed before Vanessa’s eyes as she opened her mouth to speak, “Shirley told me that you have an arrangement.”

The anger Tobin felt had suddenly been washed away with relief, “You know what? Keep her. She’s all yours.” 

The New Jersey native turned on her heel and calmly walked over to where Shirley was stood. Without a single word, Tobin reached for her left hand, removed her wedding ring and placed it on the cabinet next to the door. She headed downstairs and straight to the kitchen. Grabbing the biggest bottle of whiskey she could find, she took four huge gulps before grabbing the keys to her Porcha and left the house. 

She swerved from lane to lane as she tried to juggle her whiskey bottle and drive her car at the same time. She drove for hours, driving through red lights, bus lanes and even almost running several bystanders over. Pulling up at a local bar, Tobin parked her car literally inches from the front door and headed inside. She swayed slightly as she hopped on a barstool and held up her hand gingerly for the bartender to come over and take her order.

Other customers had noticed her as soon as she walked in. Silence filled the air as she took her seat. If looks could shoot bullets, she’d have been shot so badly they wouldn’t be able to recognise the body. Even the bartender wasn’t thrilled that he had to serve her.

“Tobin Heath,” A tattooed drunkard spat her name, “We don’t want you in here.”

“Listen, I’ve had a shit day, please just let me enjoy a drink in peace.” Tobin groaned rubbing her face.

“I had a shit day once. It was a year ago and it was because of you.” The man continued, “My daughter made me buy her a shirt with your name on and she made me buy her tickets to the World Cup Final. I took out a loan and put a bet on for you lot to win just to pay for the trip and then you go and throw the game like it was nothing. I lost my house and my daughter.” He snarled into her ear, “Was it worth it?”

Tobin sighed before grasping onto the bottle of whiskey the bartender placed in front of her and smashed it across the mans’ face, knocking him out instantly. 

“Anyone else want to talk about that game? Anyone? No? Good.” Tobin downed the shot from the glass placed in front of her just as a couple of officers walked into the bar.

“Tobin Heath?” An officer stated as he got closer to the woman in question.

Tobin didn’t respond straight away, instead she poured herself another shot and held it up at the officers, “My face is everywhere, guys, you should know Tobin Heath when you see Tobin Heath.”

“Heath, we are arresting you on one account of driving whilst under the influence of alcohol and one count of physical assault.” The female officer grasped onto Tobin’s left arm which was holding the glass full of whiskey.

“Let me finish this.” Tobin wrenched her arm from the woman and downed her drink before holding her arms up and happily going with the officers.

Tobin had been arrested before, all drunk driving offences, and she got away with nothing but a slap on the wrist. She wasn’t worried. She was more worried about what her mother would think about seeing another mugshot in the papers. 

Her court date had arrived sickeningly fast and before she knew it, she was paraded in front of a judge who ripped into Tobin as a person and as an athlete.

“Tobin Heath,” He bellowed, “As a huge fan of soccer, it pains me to see you like this. It also reminds me of why you’re like this. Although you are yet to be found guilty of match fixing, you will be tried on the accounts of DUI and assault. You have been fined time and time again and it had done nothing in terms of your rehabilitation so I will take drastic steps to keep people safe from you. You will serve eighteen months in prison with no chance of parole to be served immediately.” 

The judge banged his gavel down but Tobin didn’t hear it. As soon as she heard her sentence her ears went numb and her knees collapsed. She could make out the distant wailing of her mother in the background but she couldn’t hearing properly over the ringing in her ears. The court issued officers dragged her to her feet and hauled her away into a back room. Her head hurt, her mouth was dry and all she could think about was drinking away the pain. 

She got to chat briefly to her parents and siblings before being ushered into a back room to wait for the car to take them to the airport. The chosen prison was The California Institution For Women, a whole state away from where she had committed the crime. The plane ride was silent but deafening, like a ride to a funeral. A million things were buzzing around Tobin’s mind. How was she going to survive? Will anyone know who she is? The dynamics of prison were different to that of a soccer team. Tobin knew it was going to be hard. ‘Just keep your head down.’ She repeated in her head over and over, ‘Don’t piss anyone off.’ She pleaded to herself.  
****

FLASH.

“Turn.” The high pitched voice of a forty year old guard barked at her.

Tobin obeyed and turned to her left before turning to her right as the prison serve acquired the correct amount of pictures they needed. She was strip searched as soon as she entered the facility and had been made to change into simple prison clothes. Grey shirt, grey sweater with grey sweatpants and sneakers. All individuality had been stripped from her and she was left looking like just another inmate. 

“Inmate.” Another guard snapped at her, “You are to follow me.” She walked deeper into the facility, motioning for Tobin to follow her. After weaving around several corridors, the guard stopped them, “You listen and you listen well, the warden is going to ask you to coach our team and I’m going to need you to say no.” The woman glared at her.

“Your team?” Tobin questioned with an eyebrow raised in confusion.

The woman held up a hand to her and pushed her against the wall, “Yes, our team. State champions and semi-professional.” She smugly gloated, “And we’ve been champions for years so don’t think because you played a few soccer matches that you’re suddenly going to be our coach.” 

“I don’t want to be your coach,” Tobin honestly said, “I just want to do my eighteen months and sort my life out.” She shrugged. 

“Good.” The woman nodded before putting some distance between them, “But just in case you forget, consider this as a warning.” The guard raised her fist and struck Tobin in the ribs causing the former winger to collapse in agony. “Get up inmate.” She snarled as Tobin struggled to get back on her feet.

Limping after the guard, Tobin took a second to inspect her chest. A purple bruise had already began to form under her right breast. ‘My first day and I’ve already been attacked.’ Tobin chuckled to herself, ‘Welcome to jail, Tobin Heath.’ 

The guard knocked on the door before entering and presenting Tobin like a prize she had won at a local fair.

“Tobin Heath. The infamous number seventeen.” An aging man with a large stomach and a hair piece grinned at her, “NWSL Player of the Year for three years running, Champions League winner and Olympic gold medallist, Tobin Heath.” He stood up and slowly waddled over to her, “You know, I had to pull a lot of favours to get you here.” He winked, “I have a proposal.” He clapped his hands together excitedly.

“I’m flattered, but very gay.” Tobin remarked.

“A funny one.” The warden laughed, “Let’s see how long your humour lasts.” He leaned on his desk and folded his arms, “I want you to help out our team, give them a little coaching and make them play better.” His smile stretched across his face as though his idea was brilliant and couldn’t be refused.

Tobin, however, had other ideas, “I’m flattered that you wanted me here that badly despite the fact that I live in Portland and had to be taken to California just for you, but I’m going to have to refuse your kind offer.” The wardens face fell, Tobin continued, “I do appreciate it, but I just want to keep my head down and do my time,” She shrugged, “I’ve fallen out of love with soccer and I’d just really rather keep away from the sport.”

The warden snarled at her, “I had to kiss so much ass to get you here.”

“I appreciate it, I really do, but I just want to do my time and go home.” Tobin held her hands up.

The warden shook his head, “You’re going to regret that.” He pointed at her threateningly before waddling back to his chair and barking out, “Bring her in!”

Tobin turned to face the door just as a dark skinned inmate was forced into the room rather roughly. Her wild black hair was up in a bun and her green eyes were like a beacon to Tobin.

“Press, meet your new roommate.” The warden waved his hand towards the new girl who looked Tobin up and down before outwardly groaning.

“Really? I’ve gotta babysit her?” The inmate, Press, gritted her teeth.

The warden rose up in his chair, “Is that going to be a problem, Press?” 

“No sir.” Press’ demeanour changed quickly.

“Good, get out.”

After the female guard had guided them back to the walls of the prison, she abandoned them and allowed them to make their own way to their cells. Press was silent when accompanied by the guard but as soon as she vacated, Press was very talkative.

“You’re not the most popular inmate in here, you know.” She shrugged as they rounded a corner.

“You sure? I have a couple million followers on Twitter.” 

Press stopped, “Everyone here that knows your name hates you. I can’t and won’t protect you if they come for you.”

Tobin laughed, “Everyone everywhere that knows my name hates me. People here don’t like me? I’ll get over it.”

“You’re Tobin Heath, the girls here don’t just want to hurt you, some of them will groom you, you need to watch out.” Press started to walk again but at a faster pace this time.

“You sound like you care.” Tobin chuckled.

Press rolled her eyes, “I was new once,” She shrugged her shoulders, “I know the tricks, the language and the techniques and you’re pretty, you’re famous and you’re an athlete. The girls will be fighting over having you as their bed bitch.”

“Charming.”

Press stopped at a black door before pushing it open and revealing a tiny room with one bed stacked above another and two small cupboards adjacent to the beds. It was small. So small. The white walls had begun to turn brown with age and the only thing that brightened up the room as a small poster of Ronaldo that hung by the barred window. 

“Ronaldo?” Tobin mocked, “Ever heard of Messi?”

“Really? You’re going to judge me on my choices as you stand here in a prison?” Press folded her arms across her chest and raised her eyebrows at Tobin.

Tobin held up her arms in defeat, “Fair point, well made.”

“I’ll let you settle in for a bit,” Press said as she turned to exit.

“Wait,” Tobin reached over and pulled Press back into the cell. “Before you go, can I know your name, considering you already know mine?”

Press smiled, “Christen. Christen Press.” She turned on her heel and waltzed out, but not before quietly saying, “By the way, for what it’s worth, I don’t think you did it.” Towards Tobin.


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Friends are important. But choosing the right friends can be difficult. Tobin asks questions and a few things about Press gets revealed.

“Inmate, what are you doing in here?” A tallish prison guard made her presence known as she towered over Tobin’s top bunk whilst Tobin stared at the ceiling.

Tobin grunted slightly before replying, “This is my cell, should I not be in here?” 

“A smart one,” The guard mocked, “It’s dinner time, or are you planning on a hunger strike on your first day?” 

Tobin rolled her eyes and sat up in her bunk before hopping down and giving the guard a sarcastic smile. That seemed to be the wrong move as the guard grabbed her roughly by the wrist and easily tossed her out the cell. Her arm stung as it made contact with the metal rails outside her cell door. 

“Go to the mess hall, Heath.” The guard sniggered at her before pointing at a group of over weight women shuffling towards the communal canteen. “Follow them.” 

Rubbing her arm as though it’ll help with the pain, Tobin followed the group of women into a large mess hall filled with nearly every inmate at the facility. She kept an eye out for Press as she stood in line ready to see what slop was available. The room went silent as soon as they realised she was there. A few hushed whispers were exchanged but other than that no one talked. Tobin was used to having all eyes on her as she entered the room, so she didn’t let them faze her.

“Tobin Heath.” A skinny gaunt woman pushed her way towards her, mouth watering and some spit falling out the sides of her lips, “You need anything, you call me.” She grinned, Tobin noted that she spat when she talked, “I can make life so much easier for you,” She was really rather eager to impress and it put Tobin off her, there’s nothing she couldn’t stand more than a fake kiss ass, “The names Saffie, Saffie Prince.” 

Tobin tried her best to look uninterested, “Yeah, cheers.” She placed her tray down on the railing and pushed it along. The food looked appalling, it just looked like slop with random food colouring thrown on top of it. The servers weren’t exactly thrilled to see her, they threw the slop down onto her plate and glared at her as she passed them. 

She hadn’t a clue where to sit and who to sit next to. It’s not as though she could do a Mean Girls and eat in the toilet. Sighing to herself, she spotted an empty set towards the back of the hall and sat down. The girls she sat with halted their conversation and stared at her before one of them finally spoke up.

“Heath? Wouldn’t have imagined you’d have sat next to us.” One laughed.

“Yeah, well, not many places were free.” Tobin shrugged. Taking her plastic spork, she stabbed at the slop cautiously and sniffed it before risking bringing it to her lips.

“What wing are you in?” A shaven headed woman asked as she took a huge mouthful of food.

Tobin recoiled at the taste of the food and dropped her spork, choosing instead to just eat the apple she grabbed, “I don’t know, I didn’t stop to check.”

“Who are you rooming with? Or does the celebrity get her own five star cell?” 

“Press, Christen Press.” Tobin took a huge bite of the apple, it wasn’t that bad, but it definitely wasn’t fresh. The table went silent for a few seconds before the girls leaned in.

“Press? You’ve been put with Princess Press?” The shaven headed girl asked in a hushed tone.

Tobin nodded, “Yeah, why?”

“Press hasn’t had a cellmate in five years, the last one she had ended up in hospital because she was pushed over the railings outside their shared cell.” 

Tobin’s curiosity sparked, “She pushed her? Are you sure? Have you seen Press? She looks like a Disney Princess.”

A blonde girl leaned over, “Why do you think she’s called Princess Press? There’s nothing quite like a wolf in sheep’s clothing.” She shrugged.

“She was on my wing a few years ago but due to an incident with a guard, she had to be removed and no one has seen the guard since.” A different shaven headed woman whispered.

“What is she in for?” Tobin asked, slight fear ebbing its way into her voice.

The table looked at her in disbelief, “You haven’t heard of Christen Press before?”

“Were you in a coma in 2003?” One snickered.

“Dude, Christen Press was one of the only teenage girls to be sentenced to an adults trial.”

“She was all over the news.”

Tobin shrugged, “2003? I was fifteen! All I cared about was playing soccer and watching soccer. I didn’t watch the news. What was she on trial for?”

The blonde girl shuffled closer before dramatically uttering, “She’s a murderer.” 

As though hearing her name be the subject of conversation, Press appeared behind them and snapped, “Heath.” She glared at all the girls sat around Tobin before motioning her to stand up, “Get your tray and get up.”

Tobin did what she was told and did it in quick fashion. The girls at the table avoided looking at either of them as they walked away. Press walked ahead a few yards before turning and glaring at Tobin.

“What are you doing?” She asked through gritted teeth.

Tobin shrugged her shoulders, “Um, I was eating?” 

“No, I mean, why are you sat with Nazi’s?” 

Tobin’s face fell and she almost snapped her neck as she span round to look at the women she was sat with, “Nazi’s?” She asked, open mouthed, “How do you know they’re Nazi’s?” She turned back to Press.

“Six of the ten have shaven heads, there are only white people sat with them and seven of them have Swastika’s tattooed on their necks, arms or legs.” Press led them to a far away table, “So I think they’re Nazi’s.” 

Press sat down next to a pretty and petite brunette girl who smiled at her as she lowered herself onto her stool. Tobin stood for a moment before sitting down next to Press and another pretty but less petite girl with short but stylish hair. She smiled at Tobin before going back to her conversation with a long haired woman that sat opposite her.

“Does she have to sit with us?” The petite girl moaned.

Press rolled her eyes, “Yeah, she’s my responsibility and there’s already a lot of fake rumours going around about me so I’d really rather try and keep this one alive.” 

Tobin reached her hand across Press and towards the girl, “Hi, I’m Tobin.” She offered her a genuine smile as her hand was accepted by the girl.

“Alex.” The girl smiled back, “Alex Morgan.” Alex began pointing at each girl individually and introduced their names, “That’s Ashlyn,” She pointed at the girl at next to Tobin, “Ali,” The girl Ashlyn was talking to, “Kelley,” The girl opposite Tobin, “Moe,” The girl next to Kelley, “And Kim.” She motioned to a girl that was making their way over to them.

“I tell yae what,” Kim started as she sat down, “Dae food er is gatein’ worse and worse. I feel like am eatin’ shite.” 

Tobin stared blankly at her as she tried to process what she was saying. Press saw the confused look on her face and placed a hand on her shoulder, “Kim here is Scottish, it’ll take a while for you to understand her, but when you do let us know because you can be her translator.” 

“Aye, nae one canny understand mae.” She shrugged before holding her hand out, “Kim Little, Or as am more well known, the white Beyoncé of Scotland.” 

Tobin accepted her hand before smiling and introducing herself, “Tobin.” 

“Aye, everyone ‘ere knows exactly who ye’ are.” Kim mocked.

Tobin felt strangely at ease around these women but a sudden surge of anxiety hit her once she remembered what the Nazi’s had said about Press. Murder. She looked over at the baby faced beauty next to her and ran her eyes all over her. She couldn’t imagine that Press would be capable of such a thing just by looking at her. But everyone has their dark sides, even angels have wicked schemes. 

She still couldn’t stomach eating the slop in front of her, especially after eating monitored healthy and nutritional meals since she was eighteen. The other girls seemed used to the food if their empty trays were anything to go by. Maybe being here so long has killed their taste buds.

“So,” The woman beside Tobin began, “Did you do it?” 

Tobin groaned, pushed her tray away from her and placed her head on the table. Press gently rubbed her back slightly, “I didn’t do it.” Her voice was muffled slightly by the metal lunch table.

The woman, Ashlyn, nodded, “Okay.” 

“Okay?” Tobin laughed, “That’s all I get? No ‘you’re a liar.’ No ‘you did it.’ You just say ‘okay’ and that’s it?”

Ashlyn shrugged, “You’ve maintained your innocence for two years and there still isn’t sufficient evidence to suggest that you did anything wrong. If you say you didn’t do it, I’ll believe you.” 

The short haired woman reached the short distance to squeeze Tobin’s hand softly. Tobin gave her a grateful smile in return. Ashlyn was the second person, besides her family, to openly say that she didn’t think Tobin purposely lost the World Cup Final for a bit of money. Press was the first.

“So, what are you actually in for?” Ali asked.

The ex-Thorns winger sighed softly, “I got drunk and drove my car around Portland, stopped at a bar, drank some more then smashed a bottle over some guys head.” 

“From what I’ve read, you’ve spent most of your days drunk whilst driving that car of yours.” Press raised her right eyebrow at her and took a huge bite of her pear.

“Yeah, but if you went from being loved by nearly everyone who knew your name to hated even by people who don’t know the offside rule, you’d drink heavily too.” Tobin’s eyes reflected the hurt she felt in her heart. Her eyes bore into Press’ as they connected both unable to avert their gaze or even blink. 

“I think,” Kelley began, “If I was married to your Shirley, I would drink heavily.” She shrugged as she took a swig of orange juice, “So many stories about her having affair after affair. Why didn’t you just divorce her?”

“I don’t know,” Tobin shrugged, “My parents hated her, my dog hated her and I think deep down, I hated her. But she didn’t abandon me like everyone else. I mean, sure she was off fucking random strangers, but at least she was there when I needed her.” 

“She sounds like an ass.” Press snorted, “I get that you guys were married and everything and I’ve never really been in a serious relationship so I can’t relate, but as soon as she dropped her pants, surely you should have turned and ran back to your mom and hit her with a divorce.” 

“Or ye’ should ‘ave jus’ hit her instead.” Kim chimed in.

Press shook her head, “No Kim. That’s why you’re in here, don’t hit people.”

“So, what did you guys do to get yourself thrown in here?” Tobin asked, trying to deflect attention away from her failed marriage.

“I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.” Ali shrugged, “Drugs were exchanged and the police thought I was an accomplice. The trial is still ongoing, and until its finished I’m stuck here.” 

Kelley raised her hand, “I accidentally broke into someone’s home.”

“How do ye’ accidentally break into someone else’s home?” Kim laughed.

“I was doing some promotion work for this firm and it involved me being on a twelve foot high bike,” Kelley started, “It was kinda like a musical bike, there were large speakers and music blasted from them as I cycled around LA. It got pretty late and I think I got sun stroke because I remember being really sick and my face was red raw, so I tried to ask people to help me to get down but they couldn’t hear me over the speakers and I didn’t know how to turn it off. Then around nine at night I cycled into a trailer park and hopped down onto one of them, but I don’t know how old this trailer was because I went right through the roof and landed on a naked hick couple who beat me up and called the cops and here I am, doing twelve months because I couldn’t turn the damn music off.” 

The table erupted into fits of laughter. They could never tire of Kelley’s story.

“What about you?” Tobin asked Ashlyn.

Ashlyn stopped laughing immediately and her face turned to stone, “I was out with a few friends and we got pretty drunk,” She cracked her knuckles as she talked, “Then some guy started calling us disgusting names and my friend hit him. That sparked a massive brawl and someone ended up dying. I didn’t hit anyone, but I also didn’t help stop that guy from being killed. Guilty by association.”

Alex cleared her throat, “I skinny dipped with my boyfriend and got arrested for indecent exposure.” Tobin looked at her with wide eyes and a small smirk, “We thought we were at the nudist beach, but apparently not, we were at the beach that angry moms run along with their phones at the ready.” 

“What about you, Kim?” Ali asked.

“I gave someone a Glaswegian Kiss and their pal phoned the police on me.” Kim shrugged, “Serves him right for thinking he could push in the queue at a child’s funfair.” 

“What’s a Glaswegian Kiss?” Tobin whispered to Press.

Press rolled her eyes slightly at her Scottish friend, “It’s a headbutt. She headbutted someone and knocked them clean out.”

“And I’d do it again.” Kim huffed.

“Come on, Moe, tell us your story.” Alex grinned over at the quiet girl who seemed occupied with her hands.

The girl mumbled, “Not much to say,” She started and then continued after hearing unsatisfied groans from the others at the table, “I was going to a fancy dress party, it was a tarts and vicars theme, I was a tart. I ended up getting roped into a double date with my friend and two guys and she tried to get me to go into a restaurant that I used to work in whilst I was still dressed as a prostitute. I refused to go in and she said she’ll find somewhere else to go but the guys were already inside so she had to get them first and then bring them out. So I’m all alone outside and some guy walks up to me and asks me if its been a busy night, so I said ‘Yeah.’ Then he was asking why I was outside so I said, ‘I can’t go inside because they know me in there.’ Then he asked if I could go anywhere else so I told him the truth, I said, ‘I’ve worked all over town, there isn’t a place that doesn’t know who I am.’ Then he said he had a place we could go and asked how much so I said, ‘Expensive, I’m not the one who’s paying.’ Then he pulled out handcuffs and started reading me my rights.” Moe groaned loudly, “I thought he had a restaurant that we could go to, but he turned out to be a cop and he arrested me for prostitution.” 

“Do you actually get prison sentences for first time prostitution?” Tobin asked.

“You do when you attack an officer.” Alex wiggled her finger at Moe.

“I didn’t attack her, I just have a sensitive part on my body that she touched and my body reacted.” Moe scrunched up her face, “I’m the one who fights in the fight or flight thing.”

The table grew quieter as they realised who’s turn it was to share their story. No one other than Tobin looked up at Press, they knew why she was here, but Tobin only knew what the women at the other table had told her. She needed it either confirming or denying. Why was Christen Press in here?

“Your turn, Press.” Tobin nervously laughed, obviously trying to get rid of some of the tension that had accumulated in the air.

“Christen.” She corrected, “Don’t call me Press. The guards and the inmates have made my last name a complete terror, so when you’re around me, call me Christen.” 

Tobin nodded, “Okay. So, your turn, Christen.” 

“It’s really not.” Christen stood up abruptly and snatched her tray from the table before stomping over to the tray rack and tossing it in. She walked back to their table without sitting back down and stared into Tobin’s deep brown eyes, “You’ll hear a lot of stories about why I’m in here and what I’ve done in here, so you can do what everyone else does and choose your favourite one.” She left without so much as a glance back. A few dozen sets of eyes watching her as she left. Tobin even saw one person run after her.

“Did I say something wrong?” Tobin asked.

Alex shook her head, “No.”

“Why is she in here? I don’t understand.” Tobin’s head began to throb slightly.

“Listen, Heath,” Ashlyn started, “If she didn’t tell you, we’re not going to tell you.”

**

Tobin walked back to her cell alone. After Christen left in a hurry, Tobin didn’t want to stick around. She just wanted to go and relax in her uncomfortable bed and replay her first day over and over again in her head. When ascended the stairs she noted that her cell was empty, she half expected to see Christen there glaring at her as she approached, but instead she saw nothing but Ronaldo’s 2D face staring back at her.

‘I’ll get you a Messi one, Christen,’ Tobin thought, ‘I promise. Or a nice Neymar one.’

Her cell still wasn’t up to much and if she were being honest, she’d never been inside a room this small. Even the back of her car seemed bigger than this room. The window was smaller than her food tray, but she could still see out of it. Her view was the prison yard. The gloominess of the day dulled its surroundings. There was a soccer pitch, at least. Probably off limits to the actual inmates and served as a training facility to the officers. But next to it was a run down piece of green that was definitely used by the inmates. In fact, a few of them were on it now, kicking a ball towards a few rusted soccer nets. 

Tobin tried to make out the inmates. Ashlyn was in between the posts, Ali, Kelley, Moe, Kim and Alex were stood off to the side idly chatting away and kicking a ball between them and one other person was smashing the ball perfectly on target. Tobin couldn’t quite make her out as she had her back turned to her but she was good. The only shot that left her sneaker that didn’t hit the target, hit the crossbar instead and rebounded towards her. It was like slow motion. The ball smashing off the bar and cascading into the air and straight back to the woman who hit it. The girl pulled back her right leg and volleyed the ball straight into the top corner. As she celebrated, she turned around and Tobin saw the cheerful face of Christen grinning broadly with her arms extended.

“Good goal.” Tobin approved, “Not bad.” 

Instead of watching them kick the ball around a bit more, Tobin opted to have an early night so she could be fresh for the morning. 

**

“Wake up.” A rough bang at the door awoke her from her slumber. The door opened with a bang and the warden himself made his way in.

He turned his nose up at Christen who was lay down on the bottom bunk and wide awake. “Heath, get dressed.” He snapped, “You have one more chance to apologise and agree to coach my team.” 

Tobin sighed slightly and heaved her legs over the side of her bunk, “I don’t want to coach your team.” 

The warden’s face turned red with fury, “Fine.” He grunted as he tried to stay calm, “Have it your way.” He turned to face one of his guards, “Get this one on grounds duty, I know of a certain pair of skinheads that don’t like flushing their shit down the toilet.” He snapped his fingers and stormed out of the room.

A guard came in and roughly pulled her out of her bunk and pushed her towards her cabinet, “Get dressed.” She snapped.

“How bad is grounds duty?” She asked Christen.

“Not that bad, it’s only litter picking…” Christen trailed off, “Oh, and some girls throw their leavings out the window instead of flushing it down the toilet, so you’ve just got to pick it up.”

Tobin grabbed her grey sweater and pulled it over her head, “And what do you do?”

“I teach the girls how to read.” 

Tobin stared into her green eyes for a few seconds, completely lost in them. Christen keeps surprising her. Why she is in here, how good she is at soccer and now this. Teaching the other inmates basic English, doesn’t exactly scream cold blooded killer.

“Inmate, lets go.” The guard snarled

Once they were outside, the sun bore down on them. Tobin could feel the back of her neck getting burned as she grabbed a black bin bag and some gloves. She was accompanied by Saffie Prince who would not stop going on about her failed soccer career.

“Yeah, I could have been pro.” She said, spitting as she talked.

“Why didn’t you?” Tobin couldn’t avoid the boredom that was evident in her voice.

“I stabbed a woman in the eye and stole her baby.” Saffie shrugged as though stabbing someone and kidnapping a child was a normal thing to do. “They gave me twenty years just for blinding someone.”

“And harming a child.” Tobin noted.

Saffie stopped, threw her gloves on the floor and raced over to Tobin, “What? I never did anything to that baby except maybe forget to feed it and I did drop it a few times, but don’t you dare think that I deserve twenty years!” 

“Of course not.” Tobin held up her hands, ‘You deserve to be in a mental ward for another twenty years.’ She added in her head. 

They made their way around the grounds in silence before coming up close to the max wards. The prison wasn’t a max facility but it was known to hold two potentially dangerous individuals who were segregated from the rest. One of those inmates were being ushered into a cage and allowed their hour of fresh air.

“Who’s that?” Tobin asked Saffie.

“That?” She replied pointing at the blonde haired girl who seemed as though she was doing some kind of karate, “That’s Becky Sauerbrunn but she’s known around here as The Monk.” 

“Why?” 

“No one knows why. We just know that’s what she wants to be called. She once killed twenty three men using only her bare hands.” 

Tobin winced, “Maybe I should take up karate.”

Saffie laughed, “That was before she began to learn karate. No one messes with her, not even the guards.” 

Tobin watched as The Monk began to show off her fighting techniques and produced a few back flips. Tobin was impressed. 

**

After a hard day of picking someone else’s shit, Tobin was tired. She had finally done enough physical labour to warrant a full meal, but unfortunately she was given slop that was labelled as ‘Cottage Pie.’ She forced herself to eat a few bites before giving up and heading back to her cell. 

On her way back she spotted Christen messing around with a soccer ball. She kicked it against the wall with her right foot and then her left, over and over again. Instead of interfering, Tobin leaned against one of the walls and watched as Christen’s body moved so effortlessly as she kicked the ball back and forth. 

“Inmate, if I have to tell you one more time to stop doing that, we’re going to have a problem.” Two guards pushed passed Tobin and headed straight for the green eyed girl.

Christen balanced the ball on her foot and kicked it slightly in the air so she could catch it, “Okay, done.” She rolled her eyes and began to walk away. 

The guards had other plans, however. One grabbed Christen’s arm and threw her against the wall as the other struck a blow to her stomach. As she fell to the floor in pain, Tobin ran over and pulled one of the officers off her. The officers turned on her and began to beat on her instead. Christen tried to help, but it only resulted in both of them being dragged away and thrown into the wardens office.

“What do we have here?” He snarled.

“Nothing, sir.” Christen grumbled, kicking her feet and staring at the floor.

Tobin whipped her head around and stared point blank at Christen, “Nothing? The guards started beating down on us for no other reason than the fact that Christen was kicking a ball.”

The warden rose from his chair and slammed his fists across his wooden desk, “Heath!” He yelled, “First you refuse my kind offer of allowing you to coach MY team, and now you’re throwing around false accusations of my staff treating you unfairly?” 

“It isn’t false.” Tobin yelled back. Christen gave Tobin her best ‘Shut the fuck up’ eyes, but the message wasn’t getting across. “They began to hit her and then when I tried to make sure she was okay, they hit me!” She pointed at an open wound in the middle of her left eyebrow, “Cuts don’t just appear, sir.” 

“You know why you’re here, Heath? Because you lack discipline. You talk like this to your warden? You have no respect.” He sat back down, “You’re a cheater and a liar, Heath, you expect me to believe you? Ha.” He waved his fat hand. “All you had to do was to coach my team.” He whispered more to himself than anyone else.

“I don’t want to coach your shitty team, in fact,” Tobin was growing in confidence, “I want to coach my own team, made up of which ever inmate I want and I want to play against yours.” Tobin spat out her last few words.

The warden looked at her for several moments before his mouth upturned and he slowly grinned like the Grinch, “Why, Heath, I think that would be a splendid idea.” He clapped his hands together, “Yes, the Good Guys verses the Bad Guys.” He looked like a child on Christmas, “Maybe we could sell the television rights, my prison may finally make a name for itself.” 

“Can we go now, sir?” Christen asked.

“Yes, leave. Heath, you have two months to prepare.” 

Christen grabbed a hold of Tobin’s arm and forced her out of the room and back into their shared cell. She picked up a piece of clean cloth and dabbed it against Tobin’s forehead before sticking on a band aid.

“What have you gotten yourself into?” She sighed.

Tobin grinned, “Don’t you mean, ‘What have we gotten ourselves into?’” She wiggled her eyebrows, “My assistant coach and vice-captain Christen Press.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like, Comment, chill, have a cup of tea and a chip buttie.   
> Let me know what you think.   
> Until next time.


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